Murder in the Jury Room
by percylupin
Summary: When Andreas Black went in for jury duty in Philadelphia, he expected a nice simple murder case. Did the boy do it, or didn't he? Andy never expected to witness a murder himself. But what's so special about this particular murder? Could the murderer have been after someone else?
1. Character List

**Hey, everyone! For those of you just reading this story because you like my writing, thank you a lot. For all my new readers, Hello!**

 **So this was my final project for English, and I was wondering about all of your feedback. This chapter just has the character list, but all the others have the actual story in them. I've finished this already, so I'm posting it all at once. Please, please, please tell me what you all think.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Twelve Angry Men. The rights belong to Mr. Rose. This was seriously just for my English project. The characters and plot, however are mostly mine. There are some quotes from the script in chapter one, or so.**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **Characters**

Foreman

-James Chase

-Longer blond hair. Gray eyes. Very tall. Tan, but not overtly so. Brad Pitt without the beard. Has glasses.

-Is very organized and likes everything to run smoothly.

Juror 2

-Alexander Jones

-Floppy brown hair. Blue eyes. Average height. Young Jared Padalecki minus a half foot.

-Very shy. Gets pushed around a lot. Hates voicing his own opinion

Juror 3

-Daniel Lowrie

-Short, red hair. Pale with freckles. Bright green eyes. (Good death glare) Stefano Masciolini.

-Gets angry quick. Isn't afraid to yell.

Juror 4

-Spencer D'Egidio

-Tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Slightly on the plumper side. Mark Sheppard.

-Rich, entitled. Thinks he's all that.

Juror 5

-Caspian Cortez

-On the taller side. Slightly curled dark brown hair to his chin. Steel eyes. Jared Leto with Russell Brands hair. Born in Spain and moved to US when a child.

-Young, likes to crack jokes. Is all about having fun in life. Hedonist.

Juror 6

-Peter Campbell

-Older, around early to mid 50s. Thinning, brown hair. Viggo Mortensen.

-Kind, listens to everyone.

Juror 7

-Tony Parker

-Tony Stark mixed with Peter Parker

-Very loud. Arrogant. Thinks he knows everything.

Juror 8

-Andreas Black

-Tall. Longish, straight black hair. Brown/Black eyes. Ben Barnes before he cut his hair.

-Normally quiet, but will loudly defend his opinion. Relates to defendant. Was abused by his own parents.

Juror 9

-Robert Winchester

-Looks like Jim Beaver

-Acts like Bobby

Juror 10

-Christopher Gonzalez

-Brown hair, brown eyes. Understated looks. Older Jackson Rathbone.

-Arrogant. Bigoted.

Juror 11

-Nikolai Yablokov

-Tall, lighter hair and eyes. Hugo Weaving. Beard and everything.

-Recently immigrated from Russia.

Juror 12

-Seth Reynolds

-Blond with blue eyes. Only 18. Tom Felton.

-Very eager, perky, likes to talk.

Gaurd

-Nico Novak

-Lee Pace just because

-I felt bad leaving him out.


	2. Locked Doors

May 14, 1928

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

All of the other jurors had been seated by the time Andreas got back from the bathroom. He took his seat between Mr. Tony Parker and Mr. Robert Winchester. As soon as he was seated, Andy had his thumb in his mouth, gnawing at the stubby nail.

Looking around, Andy began to study the other jurors in the room. Caspian Cortez ‒ juror number five, and the first one to have introduced himself to Andy ‒ was seated two seats away from him. The man had his long black hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. His dark eyes glared down at the paper cup full of water in front of him. Andy was amused by the man's tee shirt and worn jeans. It was clear the man would rather be anywhere else. Andy found himself tugging at the rolled up sleeves of his own light blue button-up as his eyes went to the man sitting on the right of Caspian.

Next to Caspian, was an older man, Peter Campbell. Andy estimated his age to be around early to mid-40's. The man seemed nice enough ‒ Andy prided himself on how well he judged character ‒ as he chatted amiably with the man next to Andy, Tony Parker. Tony Parker was loud, loud and arrogant. He was the kind of man Andy made a point to avoid.

Another older man sat on Andy's other side. Robert Winchester ‒ or Bobby, as he had introduced himself to Andy on the first day of the trial. Andy liked Bobby. Bobby hadn't judged his scars. On Bobby's other side, though, was one of the most obnoxious bigots Andy had ever had the displeasure of knowing, and Andy knew his parents! Next to the man ‒ Christopher Gonzalez, Andy believed his name was ‒ was a Russian man in his mid-30's, Nikolai Yablokov. All Andy had heard the Russian man say was his name. The last juror on Andy's side of the table was a young boy about the same age as the defendant. The perky boy, Seth Reynolds, was bouncing up and down in his seat as he waited for someone to say something.

All the way on the left, sat the foreman, James Chase. James was impatiently tapping his fingers against the table as he waited for all the side conversations stop. His gray eyes were going back and forth between Juror 2, Alexander Jones, who was a younger brunette, and juror three, Daniel Lowrie, a red-headed man in his mid-thirties who seemed to enjoy hearing himself speak. Andy almost scoffed at the words coming out of his mouth. Next to Daniel was Spencer D'Egidio, a businessman who could be no older than 30. The man seemed aloof in the way he held himself, back ramrod straight and chin pointed in the air. He reminded Andy of his parents.

"Chewing gum?" Tony Parker asked, pulling a pack out of his jacket pocket and popping a piece into his mouth. He held the pack out in front of the people in the general area. "Gum? Gum?"

"Thank you, but no," Bobby said, glaring slightly at Tony.

Tony seemed to ignore Bobby.

"Y'know something," he said.

"I know a lot of things," Seth said, grinning crazily at Tony. Andy couldn't help but wonder how much coffee the kid had drunk before coming here. Certainly more than was healthy. "I'm interning at an advertising franchise," the young boy added on.

"Y'know," Tony continued, blatantly ignoring Seth, "It's hot." The man tugged on his collar as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Really?" Seth asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't have even realized if you hadn't mentioned." The boy even added an eye roll for effect. Andy grinned into his hand. The kid was still in his sassy teenage phase.

"I suppose not," Alexander said, still staring at his hands where they were clutched in his lap, entirely missing Seth's sarcasm. "I'd kind of forgotten."

"All I've done all day is sweat," Seth grumbled, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Andy was almost shocked by how fast the kid had done from cheerful to moody. Oh, the joys of teenage boys.

"I bet you aren't sweating like that kid who was tried," Daniel called to Seth from the other end of the table.

The man seemed especially pleased with himself, and Andy had a sudden urge to smack the man across the face. Of course the kid was sweating. He had just been put on trial for his life.

"You'd think they'd at least air condition the place," Tony continued whining. "I almost dropped dead in court."

 _And wouldn't that have been amusing_ , Andy mused with a small smile stretching across his lips.

"Taxes are high enough."

Andy was shocked to see it was Seth had spoken. He doubted the kid had ever had to pay taxes in his life.

Bobby seemed to have enough with the complaining. "Yes, it's hot. Now that we've achieved an understanding, can we get on with this, already?"

"Okay, gentlemen," the guard ‒ Nico Novak, according to his nametag ‒ said. "Everyone's here. If there's anything you want, I'm right outside. Just knock." Mr. Novak left the room and locked the door.

"Did he lock the door?" Daniel asked curiously, leaning forward in his seat to look at the door handle.

"Yes, he did," Spencer said, nodding his head curtly. Andy fought the urge to roll his eyes at the stuck up man.

"Who do they think we are, crooks?" Daniel demanded, his voice rising slightly.

James smiled ruefully at all the men seated around him.

"They lock us up for a little while..."

He trailed off.

"And then they lock that kid up forever and that's okay by me." Daniel was smiling darkly at the thought, and Andy's urge to punch him increased dramatically. He didn't know how long he could sit in a room with the man.

"I never knew they did that," Caspian said absentmindedly, twisting the end of his ponytail around his finger.

"Sure," Christopher said, speaking for the first time. "He had an annoying smirk on his face even as he blew his nose. "What did you think?"

Caspian seemed to be just as annoyed as Andy. "I just didn't know," he snapped. "It never occurred to me."


	3. The Face of a Killer

"Shall we admit right now that it is hot and humid and our tempers are short," Spencer sighed. He ran a hand through his thinning dark brown hair.

"It's been a pretty hard week," Andy said. He didn't go on. He waited to see who next would speak.

"I feel just fine," Daniel declared, smiling smugly at everyone around the table.

 _One punch won't hurt, right?_ Andy thought.

"I wonder what's going on down at the office," Seth muttered to himself, but in the quiet of the room everyone heard him. The boy seemed to realize this and spoke up. "You know how it is in advertising," he clarified for the sake of the other jurors. "In six days my internship could be gone, and the whole company too. They aren't going to like this."

"Ask him to hire you," Daniel said, motioning to Spencer. "He's rich. Look at the suit!"

"Is it custom-tailored?" James asked, looking the suit up and down appraisingly.

"Yes, it is," Spencer said, tugging the sleeves of the jacket so he could pull it off.

"I have an uncle who's a tailor," James continued, taking off his own jacket.

"How does he do?" asked Spencer, false curiosity in his voice. Andy knew the tone. His mother used to use it all the time when important house guests were over.

"Not too well," James replied, shaking his head. "Y'know, a friend of his ‒ that's a friend of my uncle, the tailor ‒ well, this friend wanted to be on this jury i‒n my place."

"Why didn't you let him?" Tony asked snarkily. "I would have done anything to miss this."

"And get caught, or something?" James scoffed. "Y'know what kind of fine you could pay for anything like that? Anyway, this friend of my uncle's was on a jury once, about ten years ago ‒ a case just like this one."

"So what happened?" Seth asked eagerly. His cheery mood seemed to be back already. Andy wondered if the kid ever gave himself whiplash with the change of his emotions.

"They let him off," James explained. "Reasonable doubt. And do y'know, about eight years later they found out that he'd actually done it, anyway. A guilty man ‒ a murderer ‒ was turned loose in the streets."

"Did they get him?" Daniel asked, once again leaning forwards in his seat.

"They couldn't," Spencer sighed almost dramatically. Andy once again fought the urge to roll his eyes.

 _Damn middle class_ , he brooded.

"Why not?" Daniel demanded. Andy could practically see the man's temple throbbing.

"A man can't be held in double jeopardy," Spencer said. He most definitely sounded bored with this conversation. "Unless it's a hung jury, they can't try a man twice for the same crime."

"That isn't going to happen here," Tony said assuredly.

 _They all think he's guilty,_ Andy thought suddenly. _None of them are even considering that this boy could be innocent._

"Six days," Daniel grumbled. "They should have finished it in two." Daniel took his fist and slammed it into the palm of his other hand. Next to him, Alexander flinched back. "Talk! Talk! Talk! Did you ever hear so much about nothing?"

"Well," Alexander laughed nervously, "I guess ‒ they're entitled..."

"Everybody gets a fair trial..." Daniel shook his head. "That's the system." He took a drink from his water. "Well, I suppose you can't say anything against it." Daniel tossed the cup towards the trash. He missed by a few inches, and Alexander quickly got up to go get the cup.

"How did you like that business about the knife?" Tony asked, nodding at Christopher. "Did you ever hear a phonier story?"

"Well, look," Christopher said, shockingly wisely, "you've gotta expect that. You know what you're dealing with..."

"He bought a switch knife that night..."Tony broke off.

"And then he lost it," Christopher finished with a sneer.

"A hole in his pocket." Tony let out an exasperated snort, and Andy's fist clenched. He hated people like that.

"A hole in his father," Christopher added.

"An awful way to kill your father," Alexander said softly. "A knife in his chest." The boy went back to looking at his hands. Andy wondered what had happened to the boy to make him so soft-spoken.

"Look at the kind of people they are," Christopher grumbled. "You know them." He pulled out his handkerchief again and blew his nose.

"What's the matter?" Tony asked. "You got a cold?"

"A lulu!" Christopher grumbled. "These hot weather colds can kill you."

"I had one last year," Tony sympathized, "while was on vacation too."

 _Can we please just start discussing the trial?_ Andy wondered silently. _All of this is pointless gossip_.

"All right, gentlemen," James said briskly, as if he could read Andy's mind. "Let's get started."

"Right," Tony said. "This better be fast. I've got tickets to _The Bat_ for tonight. I must be the only guy in the world who hasn't seen it yet. Okay, your honor, start the show."

"Andy?" James asked. "You with us?"

"Hm..." Andy said noncommittally. "Oh, I'm sorry."

James smiled at him to show it was okay, and Andy internally rolled his eyes. He had heard every word every one had said. He knew enough now. He knew who he could convince easily of the kid's innocence and who he would have to work to convince.

"It's tough to figure, isn't it?" Christopher spoke up first. "A kid kills his father. Bing! Just like that. Well, it's the element. They let the kids run wild. Maybe it serves 'em right."

"There are better proofs than some emotion you may have," Spencer drawled. "Perhaps a dislike for some group."

"We all agreed that it was hot," Tony said.

"And that our tempers will get short," Bobby grumbled under his breath. Andy couldn't help his lips curling up at the corners.

"Thats' if we disagree," Daniel reasoned. "But this is open and shut. Let's get it done."

"All right," James said. "Now ‒ you gentlemen can handle this anyway you want to. I mean, I'm not going to make any rules. If we want to discuss it first and then vote, that's one way. Or we can vote right now and see how we stand."

"Let's vote now," Tony said. "Who knows, maybe we can all go home."

"Yeah, let's see who's where," Christopher agreed.

"Right," Daniel said. "Let's vote now."

"I think we've made that point clear," Andy groaned.

"Anyone doesn't want to vote?" James asked, and Andy almost glared at the older man for asking. There was silence as everyone looked at each other.

"That was easy," Tony said, smirking.

"Okay," James said. "All those voting guilty raise your hands."

Daniel, Tony, Christopher, and Seth all immediately shot their hands into the air. James, Alexander, Caspian, and Peter raised their hands a moment later. Nikolai followed soon after, and Bobby was the last to lift his hand in the air.

"Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, that's eleven for guilty. Okay. Not guilty?"

Andy's hand shot up without hesitation.

"Hey," Daniel said, voice higher than normal. "You're in left field!"

"Okay," James continued on, completely ignoring Daniel. "Eleven to one. Eleven guilty, one not guilty. Now we know where we stand."

Daniel started rising before James even had a chance to finish speaking. "Do you really believe he's not guilty?" he demanded, nearly shouting.

"I don't know," Andy replied calmly, keeping all smugness out of his voice.

"After six days, he doesn't know," Tony said exasperatedly to James.

"In six days, I could learn calculus," Seth said earnestly. "This is A, B, C."

"I don't think this is as simple as A, B, C," Andy said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "There is a lot going on that we haven't looked at in it's entirety."

"I never saw a guiltier man in my life," Daniel snapped as he sat back down, grumbling.

"And what, exactly, does a guilty man look like?" Andy demanded. He could practically feel the anger bubbling up inside of him. "He is not guilty until we say he is guilty. Are we to vote on his face?"

"You sat in court and heard the same things I did," Daniel said nonchalantly. "The man's a dangerous killer. You could see it."

"Where do you look to see if a man is a killer?" Andy asked, taking several deep breaths. Getting angry would do him no good.

"Oh, well..." Daniel trailed off. Andy could easily see how irritated the man was becoming with him.

"Am I one? Do I look like a killer?" Andy turned to gesture towards James. "Or perhaps our Foreman does? Maybe Alexander?"

"Now that's going a little too far," Christopher snapped, jumping to his feet. "Alexander is just a boy."

"I'm nineteen," Alexander said softly. "I am no older than the boy we may be condemning to death. _Do_ I look like a killer?"

The jury room went quiet. Everyone was looking back and forth between themselves. Christopher slowly sat down.

"Do I?" Alexander reiterated.

"No," Caspian said. "You don't. We can't judge this boy off of anything physical. Not the way he looks, not where he lives, not where he went to school. We need to look at the facts. That's all there is to it."


	4. Heart Attack or Murder?

"He's right," Bobby said. "Let's review the facts, shall we?"

"Of course," James replied, nodding his head in agreement. "Let's see. So we know the kid bought a switch blade the day of the murder. We're all in agreement on that?"

"Yes, get on with it," Daniel said impatiently.

"The boy bought the knife and went home," James continued, eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Daniel. "A few hours later, the old man living in the apartment below the boy's heard the boy shout, 'I'm going to kill you!' and then a few seconds later, he heard a thud."

"Yes, yes," Christopher said. "We all know this. And then, fifteen seconds later the old man saw the boy running down the stairs of the tenement. It's simple. The boy is guilty."

"I don't agree," Andy muttered under his breath. He looked over at Bobby, who was, almost subconsciously, rubbing his chest, right over his heart. "You alright?" he asked, a little louder this time.

"What?" Bobby asked, startled. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, boy. Just an old man's aches and pains is all."

"If you're sure," Andy said. He turned to face James. "If I may, Mr. Foreman?"

"Go right ahead, Andy," James replied, smiling almost fondly.

"I would like to point out that the old man is a liar," Andy said, standing up once more.

"And what do you mean by that?" Nikolai asked, speaking for the first time since he had introduced himself. "Why would you call him a liar?"

"It's simple really," Andy replied. "Didn't you notice how the man was walking? He walked with two canes. And you all saw the diagram of the apartments they showed us. The old man would have been all the way in the back. Walking that far with the way he limped would have taken much longer than fifteen seconds. Not to mention the time it would take him to open his front door."

"That's a very good..." Bobby broke off, eyes widening. He clutched at his chest. "That's..."

"Bobby?" Andy asked. He rested his hand on Bobby's shoulder. Bobby was sweating, his breath quickening. "Bobby, are you okay?"

Bobby didn't answer. The sweat was pouring down his face now. He groaned once before collapsing forwards.

"Bobby!" Caspian shouted, jumping up and running to stand between Andy and Bobby. He held his fingers against Bobby's neck, looking grim. He held his fingers there for a full minute before shaking his head and pulling his fingers away. "He's gone," he said. "I'm not a doctor, but it looks like a heart attack."

"How do you know?" Seth asked nervously, inching away from the dead body.

"My wife," Caspian said. "She's a doctor." Before anyone could say anything about a woman doctor, Caspian had moved to the door and was knocking against it. "Mr. Novak!" he called loudly. "We need help. Someone's just had a heart attack!"

There was only silence outside.

"Why is no one coming?" Nikolai asked, his accent extremely pronounced with worry. "Shouldn't the guard be here by now?"

"I don't think he's out there anymore," James said. "This isn't good."

There were shouts as everyone started yelling. People were standing up and arguing.

"Quiet!" Andy shouted. Everyone was instantly quiet as Andy turned to Caspian. "Help me with Bobby?"

"Yeah," Caspian muttered softly. He helped Andy pull out Bobby's chair, then lifted the corpse up by his shoulders while Andy grabbed his feet. Together, the two men carried the body over to a corner, laying it down.

"What do we do now?" Peter asked, eyeing the dead body in the room.

"We wait," Tony said, for once his voice lacking its obnoxious 'I'm better than you' tone. "There's really nothing else we can do."

"Should we keep discussing the case?" Alexander asked. He spoke so quietly, it was almost like no one had spoken at all.

"No," James said. He clapped Alexander on the shoulder. "I feel that would be rather inconsiderate. Let's just wait until someone comes to let us out. They're bound to show up eventually."

"What I want to know is why the guard isn't at his post," Daniel grumbled, though, even his voice was quieter than usual. "Shouldn't he be out there constantly?"

"Maybe he had to go to the bathroom," Caspian suggested half-heartedly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Christopher sneered. "Something is not quite right about this entire situation. I mean, Robert Winchester didn't look like the type of man to be having a heart attack. And, I do believe the symptoms would have started showing up earlier than that."

"You're right," Caspian agreed. "Bobby didn't start sweating or panting until a few moments before his death. A heart attack would have lasted longer than that."

"What are you two suggesting?" Spencer asked nervously. His eyes flickered to the dead body in the corner of the room. "Was it murder? Do you think someone's poisoned him?"

"I don't think so," Caspian sighed. "But I wouldn't rule it out, either. Has he eaten or drunk anything since he arrived here? Maybe that will be a clue."

"Just the water," Tony replied. "I don't see what this has to do with anything. It's not like you can tell if the water's been poisoned."

But Andy was already on the move. He picked up Bobby's water cup, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed. Almost immediately, he dropped the paper cup.

"Aconite," he said. "I'd know the smell anywhere. My mother used to grow it in her garden."

"Excuse me?" Seth asked.

"My mother was an odd woman," Andy snapped, ending the discussion on the topic.

 _Did I really have to bring her up?_ he thought to himself. _Damn woman. I hope she's got worms crawling through her coffin._

"And your sure it's poisoned?" Christopher demanded, glaring heatedly at Andy. "We can't just make assumptions."

"Here," Andy said. He tossed the cup to Christopher. "Definitely Aconite."

Christopher took a sniff of the cup, and nodded satisfactorily. Andy had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. It was not the time nor place with a body in the room.

"Who would murder Bobby, though?" Alexander asked anxiously. Andy pitied the boy. He was so young and had just witnessed a murder.

"One of us," Nikolai said. "We were the only one's who knew which cup Bobby was drinking from. None of the rest of us feels off or smelled something in our water, yes?" There were ten affirmative nods. "Very good," Nikolai continued. "Then we shall go from there."


	5. The Murderer

Andy sat down on the edge of the table farthest from where Bobby had been sitting. He drummed his fingers on his legs as he began to think. Who could have poisoned Bobby? Why would they have poisoned Bobby? Was there even a motive? Had they been trying to murder someone else?

"Who ever put the poison in the glass was one of us," Andy started slowly. "We need to figure who had a motive to kill him. But, there's also the off chance that whoever the murderer is was aiming for someone else's cup."

"I don't see why anyone would want to kill the man," Tony grumbled. "He seemed alright enough. He wasn't disagreeing with anyone but you, Andreas. Are we absolutely positive it was poison?"

"Aconite has a very distinctive smell," Andy replied, gritting his teeth against the allegation that _he_ had been the one to murder Bobby. "I'm positive. If there is no motive, then the murderer must have been going after someone else."

"There's eleven of us," Peter said. "One of us is a murderer, and, if we're all in agreement, then one of us is a victim."

"Yes, yes," Daniel sighed, glancing at the dead body out of the corner of his eye, "we're all in agreement. But who is the victim? And once we find out who the victim is, who was trying to kill him?"

"It would have been someone sitting near Bobby," Spencer put in. "Someone who wasn't getting along with others."

"Andy and Christopher were seated the closest to him," Caspian said, gesturing to the two chairs that were now empty. "It would have been easiest to mess up their cups with Bobby's."

"So which of the two was the murderer trying to kill?" Seth asked. The boy looked like he was about to be sick with all the talk of poisoning. "I swear this is right out of a Christie novel."

"Does sound like one, doesn't it?" Peter muttered to himself. "Reminds me of _And Then There Were None_. With the judge and all, you know?"

"A bit," James said. The foreman was frowning, tapping his pencil on the table as he thought about what was going on around him. "My guess is Andy."

"Huh?" Andy asked, snapping his head to the side to stare at the foreman. "What do you mean? You think _I'm_ the murderer?"

"No, no," James said, shaking his head. "Nothing quite so drastic. I believe you were meant to be the victim."

"Why do you think it was him?" Christopher asked. His face had been getting paler and paler since Caspian had mentioned he might be the victim.

"Simple really," James replied. "Andy's the only one who disagreed with the rest of the jury. There would be no other reason other than that to kill someone in this room. None of us know each other."

"He does have a point," Andy admitted, even though the thought made him sick to his stomach. "I'm really the only person someone would have a motive against."

"But who's the actual murderer?" Caspian sighed. "One little disagreement won't make someone want to kill someone else."

"You're right," Alexander agreed. "The murderer will be someone who is really angry about Andy thinking there's reasonable doubt."

"And who do you suppose that is?" Daniel asked, but everyone was already looking at him. "Me?" he blurted out. "You think it was me?"

"You do seem rather opinionated that the kid did it," Tony said. "No one but you and Andy have been very vocal on the matter."

"Why I-" Daniel broke off, fixing his glare on Tony. "I didn't even know the man's opinion until we were all sitting down. I wouldn't have been able to put anything in his cup, let alone without anyone noticing."

"Daniel's right," Andy agreed. "I never told him what I thought about the case. The murderer would be someone who knew I thought there was reasonable doubt the boy didn't do it."

"So who'd you tell?" Seth demanded. The boy put on an angry front, but Andy could see his terrified eyes. He was scared. Scared that he would be next.

"I spoke to Bobby, Caspian, Alexander, Peter, and Tony about my feelings before we sat down. And I think we can all rule Bobby out."

"Very true," James said. "Here, I'll make a list." James quickly jotted down Caspian, Alexander, Peter, and Tony's name. "Okay, so who was close enough to get something in Bobby's cup?"

"Bobby and I were seated almost the entire time," Andy said. "The only time we weren't is when Bobby was getting his water, and I highly doubt someone poisoned it while he was holding it, and when I was up talking to Caspian."

"Okay, so who went over by their seats?" Daniel asked impatiently. "This should be simplicit, men!"

"I didn't," Caspian said. "I stayed by the water dispenser until we all sat down."

"I'll attest to that," Peter put in. "I was with him the whole time."

"But you're also one of the suspects," Christopher said.

"He's got a point," Andy said. "I'll attest that I only spoke to them by the water dispenser, and they were together. Neither of them came close to where I was sitting with Bobby."

"Alright," James muttered, crossing the two names off his list. "That leaves Alexander and Tony."

"I'll vouch for Tony," Seth piped up quickly. "As soon as Andy stepped away, I start talking to him, and we continued talking until we all sat down."

"I saw them," Christopher agreed, nodding his head once.

"So that leaves..." James paused as Alexander stood up.

"Me," the youngest of the group said, smirking. "I asked you, Andreas, if you thought I looked like a murderer. You said 'no'."

"Perhaps I'm not as good at judging character as I thought," Andy replied, standing up. "I seem to have misjudged yours rather harshly."

"Truly," Alexander said, his smirk widening. "Although, the attempt on your life may not be for the reason our fellow jurors seem to think."

"No," Andy replied. "I suppose your motive was something quite different. This was premeditated, otherwise you wouldn't have brought the poison to begin with. You somehow knew I was on this jury, and, for some reason, you hate me. "

"Aren't you a smart one?" Alexander rolled his eyes. "You're right of course. It's not so much that I hate you, though. It's more revenge, I suppose."

"Revenge?" Andy asked, raising an eyebrow. "What could I possibly have done to warrant such a thing?"

In the background, the other ten jurors were watching the two like a tennis match, eyes going back and forth. Daniel and James were slowly inching forwards, ready to catch Alexander if he tried to jump at Andy.

"Not you," Alexander said, nearly snarling. "Your father! Your father the police man! He was my father's partner. They were working a case together about ten years ago. William Jones was killed in the line of duty, but Edward Black lived with just a stab wound to the leg. Why did your father get to live while mine died?" Tears were filling Alexander's eyes, and his fists were clenched by his sides. For the first time, Andy realized there was a knife in his hand.

"Alexander," Andy said slowly, "I realize you are very upset about this, but what does this have to do with me? Let's talk about this. There doesn't have to be any more death. I haven't spoken to my father in years. Killing me won't make anything better."

"Yes," Alexander growled out. "It will. Why should I grow up fatherless when you grew up not even appreciating yours? Tell me why!" The tears were starting to pour down Alexander's cheeks as he cried over his father. "Why?"

"My father wasn't the nicest man," Andy said. "I know that. I grew up not loving him and not receiving any love from him. That was how we worked. I understand that you love your father, but killing me won't bring him back. Nothing can bring someone back from the dead."

"No," Alexander agreed, "but it'll sure make me feel better."

Alexander lunged for Andy, the knife raised. James and Daniel both leaped forward simultaneously and grabbed his arms, but not before the knife slashed through Andy's stomach.

Andy gasped as the blood started bubbling up from the wound. He could feel his vision going in and out. The blood was warm where it ran over his fingers.

"Help," he managed to get out before he fell backwards into someone's arms.


	6. Epilogue

August 30, 1980  
Bristol, Pennsylvania

"And that's when they started screening everyone that went into the jury rooms, Jeff," Andy finished with a soft smile, the wrinkles in his face stretching.

"That's so not true, Papa," Jeff said, rolling his eyes. "There's no way _you_ got stabbed in a jury room."

"Oh, really?" Andy asked, laughing jovially. "Go play with your cousins, boy. I'm sure they're waiting for you."

"Bye, Papa!" Jeff shouted, jumping up from his seat on the wooden porch and running off to go find his cousins.

"He doesn't believe you, Papa?" Kathleen asked, stepping out of the house with her grandmother on her arm.

"Of course not, Kathy," Andy said, smiling. "None of them have."

"I think it's where you mention getting stabbed," Ethel joked, sitting down next to her husband of fifty-five years. "The Lord knows I didn't believe the doctors when they first told me who had stabbed you."

"I didn't either," Kathleen added. "When you first told me the story."

Andy just kept smiling and shook his head.


End file.
